Free Will is a Lie
by jhoom
Summary: They call themselves Team Free Will, and the name seemed to fit. They were just making it up as they went, ignoring the script and the whole goddamn plan. So maybe he took it for granted. That free will was actually a thing that he, Dean Winchester, actually had. Because no apocalypse, no saying yes to Michael, that's proof right?
They call themselves Team Free Will, and the name seemed to fit. They were just making it up as they went, ignoring the script and the whole goddamn plan. And it worked. Somehow it fucking _worked_.

So maybe he took it for granted. That free will was actually a thing that he, Dean Winchester, actually had. Because no apocalypse, no saying yes to Michael, that's proof right?

Years later and Dean's comfortable in that truth. It's just a fact of life. His mistakes are his own, but so are his successes. There's something comforting in that.

Doubt takes a while to creep in. So long that he doesn't even realize it has a hold of him.

Like a lot of the trouble he's had over the past few years, doubt takes the form of an angel. Correction, ex-angel. No wait, never mind, angel once again.

He's not an idiot. He's not as emotionally constipated as Sam would have people think. He _knows_ what's going on inside his own head. Maybe he doesn't really think too hard on it most of the time. And sure, he's not one to _talk_ about it, but that doesn't mean he's not _aware_.

How could he not be? He knows he stares at Cas too often, too long. That his eyes wander over the angel's body, lingering in spots that they really shouldn't. That when he hears Cas might be in trouble, his heart beat goes crazy and his thoughts erratic. God, does he know the smile that twitches on the corner of his lips is a smile he saves just for him.

Dean realized it a while ago. The first hints of it before they even let Lucifer loose that first time, but certainly more of it coming through with each moment they spend together. Hell, he's pretty sure Sam knows. Even Cas, who might not be so much emotionally constipated as emotionally stunted from spending millenia as a heartless dick angel, probably at least _suspects_...

Just like Dean _suspects_ the same about Cas. He's not _sure_ , and he's insecure enough to question, but he _hopes_...

He makes up his mind to do something. And there are so many opportunities to do so. To slide his hand from Cas' shoulder, down his arm, lower still to his hand and thread their fingers together. To lean in and kiss him.

But each time he just... doesn't.

Nerves, he tells himself. And it's not like Cas is going anywhere, he'll have time to figure this shit out.

But then Cas is human and for the worst fucking minute of Dean's life, Cas is dead in front of him. He resolves more firmly to do something about whatever the fuck it is between them. Cas is _human_ , for fuck's sake. Sammy is _dying_. They fucking need each other to make it through this.

Even when Ezekiel or Gadreel or whoever tells him to kick Cas out, Dean thinks, "Oh fuck no." Every step he takes to find Cas in the next room is one step closer to him spilling his guts about the whole angel possession thing and begging for help.

Yet... none of those words are the ones that come out of his mouth.

Weeks later he still can't figure out why he said _the exact fucking opposite_ of what he'd wanted to. What he'd _planned_ on saying. It bothers him, as it rightly should.

The world is kinda going to shit, so the fear it brought up in him dissipates. Hides in the back of his mind for years. It does whisper to him, every now and then, "Why isn't Cas staying? He doesn't have to be gone. He doesn't _want_ to be gone, why can't he stay? Why don't I _ask_ him to stay?"

Nothing happens. Nothing changes. They keep going down their paths, farther away from each other.

The Mark of Cain blots out pretty much everything. There's no room left in him for those types of questions, and less still to pine over the angel. Just a sad acceptance that Cas is forever out of reach, despite both of their wishes.

He nearly kills Cas. Beats him near to death with his own fucking hands. He can't look at himself afterwards. Not without seeing what he almost did. Intellectually, he understands that it's the Mark.

He still feels like shit about it.

So when the Mark is gone, and he gets Cas back and they fix him and thank fucking god they're a team again... Dean has every fucking intention of apologizing. He's been working on this speech for a while now. Even practiced it in front of a mirror. Because it's not just about nearly killing his best friend. It's about all the missed opportunities that keep building up.

The perfect opportunity comes. Hell, Sam must have some idea it's coming because he leaves the two of them alone. Dean opens his mouth and... nothing comes out. Frowning, he swallows heavily and tries again. Nothing.

He tries about a dozen times and is starting to freak out. He is _physically_ unable to get the words out. It's like he's fucking possessed or something, because there's no other way to explain why his body isn't doing what he's telling it to do.

The moment passes, Cas leaves.

He barely sees Cas for a while. Which makes no fucking sense, they're both living in the same fucking place working on the same fucking problem. _Why doesn't he see Cas more?_ It's really unnerving and Dean's starting to freak out.

But this is Dean Winchester, and his life is a shit show. The whole Darkness thing is a pretty good distraction. No time to worry about temporary loss of control of your own fucking body when the fate of the world hangs on you fixing your own goddamn mess. Priorities, right?

Things start to click, though. The way he feels around Amara. The way he _doesn't have control_ of himself. Can't make his body do or say the things he wants to. Just like all the times he's wanted to do or say something to Cas. Which has been going on for years, he finally _finally_ realizes. Literally _years_ of times his mind and body are not on the same page, almost all of it centered around Cas.

Cas, who apparently said yes to the fucking Devil. Cas, who knows better. Cas, who stole Dean's heart a long time ago but apparently isn't ever going to reap the rewards of it.

As he drinks himself to oblivion that night, he can't help but feel like he did all those years ago when Zachariah was on his ass about fate. Once again, Dean is trapped. Trapped doing things he doesn't want to, that he wouldn't in a million years but then he just does them anyway.

He wants cas. Cas wants him. Damn it all, he _chooses_ Cas. Over everything. And he's pretty fucking sure Cas would choose him, too.

The illusion of free will is broken. He's never getting Cas. Whoever's calling the shots, writing the script he's stuck following, says, "No, sorry, that's not in the cards for you guys." He's trapped playing the part they've written for him.

It's just... why'd they let him fall in love with someone he was never allowed to have?

Dean cries himself to sleep that night. And many after.


End file.
